


And So The Feeling Grows

by duckgirlie



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, F/M, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckgirlie/pseuds/duckgirlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say an astonishing number of people meet their future spouses at weddings. Unfortunately for Arthur, things are never that straightforward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And So The Feeling Grows

**Author's Note:**

> An _Inception_ -afied remix of _Four Weddings and a Funeral._ Beta by [](http://taurenova.livejournal.com/profile)[**taurenova**](http://taurenova.livejournal.com/)
> 
> This was my first ever Inception fic. (Embarrassingly enough though, not my first remix of a Hugh Grant film)

# 

_Jeff & Karen  
April 5th_.

Arthur wakes up to Ariadne hammering on his bedroom door.

They're late. Fuck.

He's hopping around his room, trying to fix his buttons, his tie, and his shoes when Ariadne stops him, shoves him down to sit on the bed, and ties his laces while he fixes his tie. They make it out to the sidewalk in front of their building in less then fifteen minutes, and Arthur is just shoving a bread roll into his mouth when he spots the car turning the corner.

He rolls his eyes. Of course Saito brings a fucking limo. Before it even pulls to a stop in front of them, Mal pops up through the sun roof, smiling and waving enthusiastically.

“We have champagne!” She announces triumphantly as the limo rolls to a stop.

Even though it's barely 10am, Arthur accepts a glass as soon as they're inside. He hates weddings, so this seems as good a way as any to get through the day. Around him on the other seats, Mal is drinking champagne while Dom holds another glass and sips from it very occasionally, Ariadne has pillowed her head against her folded-up shawl and is asleep again, Saito is on his Blackberry, and Yusuf is trying to give the driver better directions through the glass.

Ari has the right idea, he thinks, knocking back the rest of his champagne and resting his head gently on her shoulder.

When they exit the limo at the church, the morning air combines with the early start and the champagne to leave him slightly tipsy. Yusuf catches him by the shoulders and aims him towards the church before steering a still-sleepy Ariadne after him. Arthur is so busy scanning the crowd to see who he'll have to avoid later that he misses the step in front of the church and nearly crashes to the ground.

Instead, a man catches him right before he hits the floor.

“Careful there, darling.”

Embarrassed, Arthur avoids looking at his rescuer. “I'm not your 'darling'.”

He can practically feel the eyes dragging over his body before looks up.

“And that is a situation I feel I shall regret for some time.”

The man – who is far too gorgeous for Arthur to cope with at this time of day – smiles at him before heading into the church, leaving Arthur alone on the steps. He stands for a moment, nearly frozen, until Mal slips her arm through his and drags him inside.

“Come, Arthur. I do not know how I am to be expected to sit through an entire wedding ceremony without your charming commentary.”

“You managed all right at your own,” he grins.

She smiles back. “Only through imagining what you might be saying, given the opportunity.”

“That and the flask under your skirt.” Ariadne adds from Mal's other side.

Mal waves her hand dismissively. “Marriage should only be entered into by those whose resolves have been tempered by good cognac. I believe it says so in The Bible.”

“Not in my Bible.” Dom says, “but then, you Catholics have always had all the fun.”

 

* * * * *

 

The wedding ceremony is exactly as boring as Arthur had anticipated. He has no real idea why they're even there, because as far as he can remember, they've barely even seen the couple since college, and close as they may have been then, five years is a long time in the real world, and he barely recognises Jeff as he takes his vows.

He looks happy, but all Arthur can think is 'for how long?'

By the time they reach the reception, Mal has expended her bottle of Saito's champagne, and she pulls Dom so close to her side they're practically sharing the same chair at dinner. Yusuf and Ariadne are gossiping about the various guests they also haven't seen since college, and Saito has managed to obtain a glass of single malt, even though the bar isn't open yet.

“You know everyone, right?” Arthur asks him.

“Everyone worth knowing, and several who are not.”

Arthur points at the man from the church. “Who's that guy?”

Saito inclines his head slightly and scans the crowd. “Eames. English.”

“I guessed as much.”

“New in town, does something for Condé Nast. Seen around town on the arm of many an intensely interesting man. Suffice to say, entirely out of your league.”

Arthur rolls his eyes at both the mild insult and the way Saito manages to put the air quotes into his voice. “Thank you for that.”

Saito raises his glass in a subtle 'you're welcome.'

 

* * * * *

 

Three-quarters of a piece of bland chicken, several hours, and near on a bottle of wine later, Arthur is starting to warm to the occasion. The dancing has started, a swing band doing their very best to get the reception moving, and most of his table have disappeared. He sips his wine and looks out over the tent, just about to head over to the bar when Ariadne crashes into the seat next to him.

“You're being boring.”

“I am boring.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “You're being _super_ boring then. It's impossible.”

“I'm glad to make an impression. Get someone else to entertain you, why can't you?” He stops to glance around the tent. “Where's everyone gone, anyway?”

She sighs. “Yusuf is at the bar, Saito is talking to some twink, and The Heterosexuals were dancing, until Mal stood on Dom's foot and she had to practically carry him outside.”

Arthur winces in sympathy. “Is he going to be okay for the walk back to the hotel later?”

“Didn't anyone tell you? Saito has a place near here - he'd forgotten about it - but the staff are in, so we're all going back there tonight, if you're up for it? There're like, a bazillion rooms, so even if Saito brings anyone back – or Yusuf, for that matter, or you - there's enough room that no-one has to worry about being too quiet.”

“You're not planning on dragging anyone back with you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Have you _seen_ the ladies round these parts? They're all... proper. I can't be doing with that.”

“I forgot, you have your standards.”

“Damn straight,” she grins at him, tossing the rest of her drink back. “I'm going to go track down Jeff's grad-student cousin. Those guys always have weed. See ya later.”

Arthur glances around the room after she leaves, doesn't see anyone else he knows, and pulls himself to his feet to head back to the bar. He’s busy avoiding someone who he can't remember whether he's slept with or not when he crashes into someone just getting up from another table.

“We really have to stop meeting like this, I'll think you're trying to kill me.” Eames smiles.

Arthur shoves his hands awkwardly into his pockets. “Sorry, I was kind of avoid... It was stupid, I'm sorry.”

“Don't mention it. I'm Eames, by the way. Friend of Karen's from way back when.”

“I'm Arthur. I went to college with Jeff.”

Standing in the reception tent, Arthur is able to get a better look at him then in the church, and his eyes rake as unobtrusively as possibly over him. Eames is wearing a perfectly fitted suit that had probably gone out of style along with free trade with Cuba. He's paired it with an excessively patterned waistcoat that manages somehow to get as close as it possibly can to clashing with his suit without quite getting there. None of these things manage to make him any less ridiculously attractive.

Eames is looking at him curiously, and Arthur realises he must have blanked out for a second.

“Sorry, I missed that?”

“Just wondering where you were staying.”

Small talk then. He can handle small talk.

“Um, I was at some place near by, the Master... Master... Master something. But my friend” - he gestures at Saito, still deep in conversation with the guy Ariadne had pointed out - “he remembered having a giant house nearby, so I think we're staying there now. What about you?”

“I'm at the Master Master Master Something.”

“Ah.”

“Pity. I was hoping I could persuade you to have a drink with me later. But it looks like that wish is going to go unfulfilled.”

Eames fishes the strawberry out of his champagne and bit into it, smiling over the rim of his glass.

Arthur doesn't quite have a response for that.

“Well,” Eames knocks back the rest of his champagne and sets the glass down. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah. You too.”

As Eames walks away, Arthur forces himself to turn around instead of following.

He finds Yusuf and Ariadne behind the tent, exchanging Yusuf's superior rolling skills with Jeff's cousin for weed. He flops down next to them.

“This is the worst wedding ever.”

Ariadne breathes out a mouthful of smoke. “Not even. Remember Stephanie? And all the crying? She had like, snot halfway down her dress, and that was before Jack necked back a bottle of vodka and told her he hated her.”

Arthur looks at her critically. “Fine. So it's the second worst wedding ever. And aren't you getting a little old for that?”

Yusuf and Ariadne shrug.

“You deal with stressful situations by bitching out of the corner of your mouth, we deal with this.” Yusuf offers him the joint, but he waves it away.

They sit in silence for a while, watching the crowd on the dance floor slowly wind down.

Ariadne looks around. “Saito's making that face that says 'I'm leaving now, so if you don't want to walk, you'll leave too'.”

Arthur pulls them both to their feet, abandoning the rest of the joint, and they make their way back to the limo. Mal and Dom are already inside, working their way through another bottle of champagne.

“Arthur! Ariadne! Yusuf!” Mal exclaims. “I hope you have been having as enjoyable night as we have.”

“You nearly broke my foot.” Dom points out.

“As enjoyable a night as I have been having then.” Mal smiles and passes around the champagne bottle, glasses forgotten.

“I don't think it's possible to enjoy ourselves as much as you have.” Yusuf says.

“Although he and Ariadne have been trying their very best.” Arthur offers.

Mal smiles lazily and lays back in her seat, conducting the radio with an outstretched hand.

Arthur presses his forehead against the cool glass as the limo crawls down the tiny country road. He can see the turn off for the nearby town coming up, but it’s not until the limo has gone just far enough past that turning back would be nearly impossible that he sits up.

“Stop the car.”

The limo comes to a sudden halt. The rest of the car's passengers turn to stare at him.

“Arthur, do you have something you wish to share with the group?” Mal asks seriously.

“Not yet, no.”

“Oooh,” Ariadne bounces slightly on her seat. “Is this the guy? With the face?”

“I think you will find, Ariadne,” Saito offers, “that most men have faces.”

She waves him off and turns back to Arthur. “It is, isn't it? Look at you, being all spontaneous and shit. I'm so proud.”

Arthur manages to escape the limo before anyone else manages to contribute an opinion, but he can still hear some muffled advice being yelled out as the limo heads off. He ignores it.

Unfortunately, for all his determination to leave the limo, about half-way through the twenty-minute walk to the hotel he'd starts to sober up and cool down, and by the time he's actually made it there he's managed to run over every possible outcome in his head.

More of them than he likes end badly.

Inside the hotel, he heads straight for the bar, knocking back a whiskey to rebalance himself before looking around the room. He doesn't recognise anyone from the wedding, let alone Eames. He's facing the bar, contemplating ordering another drink when he suddenly feels a body pressed against his back.

“Change of plans?”

Arthur takes a small step and turns to face Eames, forcing himself not to blush.

“My friend's place didn't pan out.”

“Oh yeah?” Eames trails a finger around the rim of his glass. “His 'giant house' was full, was it?”

Arthur smiles slightly to buy himself a few seconds to think. “Well, it doesn't matter how many rooms there are, once your friend disappears off with someone and neglects to leave you some keys.”

“Ah.” Eames gestures at the bartender to refill Arthur's glass. “Good thing I talked to you earlier then, or you'd be hopelessly alone here.”

“Indeed.”

Arthur is just about to clink his glass against Eames when the other man's face freezes. He turns around to try and spot what has set him off, but when he turns back, Eames is gone. He looks around again only to see a flash of a familiar waistcoat disappearing.

Dejected, he takes a sip from his drink. He’s starting to contemplate whether it'd be more pathetic to check in by himself or to call a taxi back to Saito's when a tall woman wobbles over to him.

“So, like, yeah... You were at Jeff and Karen's wedding, right?” She asks.

“...Yes.”

“I'm looking for this guy. He's like-” she waves her hand above her head, “-this tall, and like, really hot? I think his name is Ames, and he was at the wedding? Like, _really_ hot.”

“Can't say that I've seen him.”

She looks around the room, pouting. “Damn.”

Arthur is about to make a half-hearted attempt at sympathy when the bartender coughs discretely.

“Message for you, sir.”

He slides a scribbled note across the bar.

>   
> _316 – E ;)_

Arthur knocks back the rest of his drink and pushes back from the bar.

“Sorry. I've got to... go.”

“If you see Ames, can you tell him Cynthia is looking for him?”

“...Sure.”

Upstairs, he pauses for a moment to collect himself before raising his hand to knock on the door. The door opens before his hand makes contact with the wood. Arthur raises an eyebrow.

Eames gestures at the door. “Peephole.”

“Creepy.”

Eames stands aside to let Arthur in. The room is bigger then the one he'd booked for himself.

“Should I enquire as to whether you're here for my company or just trying to avoid Cynthia at all costs?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow again. “Should I be worried that you remembered her name?”

Eames glances around the room before trailing his hand up Arthur's chest to rest on his collarbone. “Seeing as you're here, and she's still in the bar, I should think not.”

“Good.”

Arthur closes his eyes, and lets himself be pulled into a deep kiss.

 

* * * * *

 

Arthur wakes up when the sun falls across his face. The other side of the bed is empty, and he pushes himself up onto his elbows to look around the room.

Eames is awkwardly bent out the window with a cigarette. When Arthur starts to move the sheets rustle and Eames stubbs his cigarette out and pulls himself back inside. He's now wearing baggy jeans with a polo shirt in a particularly... interesting shade of puce, and he grins widely when he sees Arthur.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” Arthur huffs out, falling back into the pillows.

“I was trying to decide whether to wake you up or leave you asleep a bit longer.”

“What time is it?”

Eames checks his watch. “About half-eight.”

“Jesus.” Arthur tries to burrow back into the covers. “Why the hell would you wake me up?

Eames mock-pouts. “Well, I didn't want you to think I'd done a runner. But now I'm sensing you're not a morning person.”

Arthur covers his eyes against the sun. “Not so much, no.”

Eames stands up and stretches. “Well, I'd love to stay and chat love, but I've got a flight to catch.”

Arthur has eight glasses of wine, half a bottle of champagne, and two whiskeys pounding against four hours sleep in his head. It's probably making him grumpier then he should be.

“I would not have blamed you _at all_ for letting me sleep on.”

Eames smirks. “But then I couldn't do this.”

He leans over Arthur and kisses him. Technically he’s kissing him goodbye, but it’s by far the filthiest goodbye kiss Arthur has ever had. His body is managing to press into the contact regardless of how badly his head wants to hide from the sunlight.

Eames pulls back and smiles softly. “Check-out's at eleven. I've paid for the room, so don't trash the place.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

After the door closes, Arthur fires off a quick text to Ariadne about where to collect him, and burrows back under the sheets to sleep some more.

 

* * * * *

 

_Jessa & Marina  
June 9th_.

 

Ariadne climbs over a bunch of well-dressed relatives so she can squeeze in next to Arthur.

“Jess _a_ and Marin _a_...” She snorts. “Do me a favour, right? If I ever turn into one of those lesbians who marries someone who's name rhymes with mine, you can kill me, okay?”

“Is that a type of lesbian?” Arthur asks.

She looks over the crowd, pointing out a few couples. “Getting to be.”

“Well, nothing rhymes with 'Ariadne', so you're probably safe.”

“Unless it rhymes with 'Ari'. That's halfway there.”

“Do I just maim you then?”

She’s about to answer when one of the guests she'd just clambered over shushes them.

“Where's everyone else?” She whispers.

“You mean the people who arrived on time and hadn't promised to save you a seat?”

“Yeah.”

“They're up there.”

Arthur points to Dom, Mal, Saito and Yusuf, sitting comfortably halfway up the church.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine. But you'll probably be missing Mal's hip flask in a couple of minutes.”

At the front of the church, the choir starts to sing.

 

* * * * *

 

Arthur spends the entire ceremony trying to figure out whether Marina's mother is crying tears of joy or oh-my-god-my-daughter's- _definitely_ -a-lesbian. The whole thing is mercifully short though, and he and Ariadne soon find themselves reunited with everyone else at the reception. Jessa's family have money, and it shows in the venue, all rolling grass and subtle waiters. Arthur grabs the nearest champagne and starts drinking.

“If I'm not an alcoholic by the end of this summer, it'll be impressive.”

“It does seem as if everyone we know has decided to get married at the same time.” Yusuf agrees.

“Dom and I were obviously ahead of the curve.” Mal says. “And soon it will be the turn of one of you.”

Arthur, Ariadne, Saito and Yusuf all exchange a look.

“...Sure.” Arthur says.

“You will likely be waiting some time for that.” Saito continues.

“Speaking of relationships, weren't you seeing someone?” Dom asks him.

Saito has once again managed to procure a glass of single malt when everyone else is drinking champagne. “He was becoming... attached.”

There’s a comfortable silence as the group looks out over the assembled guests. After about fifteen seconds, Ariadne elbows Arthur in the ribs.

“What?”

“You remember Jeff and Karen's wedding?”

“Yes.”

“You remember that guy you were talking to? The one who looks like if Graham Greene wrote gay porn?”

There's only one person she can be talking about. “Yes...”

“Is that him?”

Arthur should probably be embarrassed about how quickly he whips his head around to look where she's pointing, but he doesn't care. She's right. Eames is standing in the middle of the garden, deep in conversation with one of Jessa's bridesmaids.

The rest of his friends have also followed Ariadne's pointing, and he can hear them discussing him.

“Is this the man he abandoned us for at Jeff's wedding?” Mal asks.

“If it is,” Yusuf replies, “then he is entirely forgiven.”

“If Graham Greene had actually written gay porn, would there have been illustrations?” Saito wonders.

“Right.” Arthur turns to face them. “This has potential to become the best wedding ever. I'll see you later.”

He turns back sharply and strides over the grass towards Eames, making sure to avert his gaze enough he can pretend to just stumble across him randomly. He's pretty sure that won't actually work, but hopefully Eames won't call him on it.

“Arthur?”

“Eames.” Arthur smiles. “I'd entirely forgotten Jessa was at Condé Nast now. How've you been?”

Eames pulls him into a loose hug, and Arthur is just about to whisper something thoroughly inappropriate when another man approaches them, calling Eames' name. Arthur pulls himself back to a respectable distance. The man joins them, laying a hand on Eames' shoulder.

“Sorry about that. You know what Ms. Haversham can be like, I barely managed to escape.”

“Not a problem.” Eames gestures to Arthur. “This is Arthur, he's another friend of Jessa's. Arthur, this is Stephen... my fiancé.”

Arthur is incredibly impressed with himself that he manages not to freeze completely, and even manages to shake Stephen's hand before he drags Eames off to meet someone else, leaving Arthur alone on the grass.

And now there's a new contender for Worst Wedding Ever.

 

* * * * *

 

Arthur skips dinner, because he's not in the mood for whatever passes for conversation at these things. He manages to liberate a bottle of wine from one of the waiters and hides out in one of the many hallways until Dom finds him.

“What's wrong with me?”

“Jesus Christ.” Dom carefully removes the bottle from Arthur's grip. “What the hell is going on?”

“No, like seriously. Is there something wrong with me? Something that makes me fundamentally unlovable?”

“You're not fundamentally unlovable.”

Arthur waves his hand dismissively. “Well then, fundamentally unlovable to all but complete weirdos? I mean, you've met my boyfriends, all of them, right? And they're all complete and utter freaks, right? Why do I only manage to attract the kind of people who just have something completely wrong with them?”

Dom is about to answer when his face freezes.

“One of them's standing behind me right now, aren't they?” Arthur asks.

“Little bit, yeah.”

Arthur turns around to see Nash, who punches him in the face and stalks off before Arthur can even open his mouth to explain.

“Ow.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don't think you can blame yourself for him.”

“Ow.”

Dom pushes him in the direction of the bathroom. “Go sort yourself out. I've got to go make sure Mal hasn't done anything too reckless in the last fifteen minutes.”

“Good luck with that.”

The hotel is huge, and it takes Arthur a while to locate the bathrooms, stumbling into random empty rooms, and at one point opening a door only to find a window behind it. He presses his forehead against the cool glass and looks down at the sidewalk in front of the hotel, thronged with various guests. After a few seconds, Eames and Stephen walk down the front steps and join the queue waiting for taxis. Arthur pulls himself away from the window.

When he finally finds the bathroom, he stays for a while, carefully washing his hands and face and examining the skin around his eye to see if it's going to bruise. Probably not, Nash was never going to be the kind of guy who knew how to throw a punch. He'd probably hurt _himself_ more.

Back in the main room, Ariadne is staking out the crowd, which apparently contains a more Ariadne-approved standard of lesbian then Jeff and Karen's wedding. Dom is swaying gently on the dance floor while Mal dances around him, and Saito is at the bar.

Yusuf walks up beside him and hands him a glass. “Bad night?”

He swallows most of the drink. “Understatement.”

“You alright? Dom mentioned something about introspection and punchings. Sounded unpleasant.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He scrubbs his hand over his face. “Look, I don't think I'm going to be particularly good company tonight, so unless Saito has another semi-forgotten mansion nearby, I'm going to head back to the hotel.”

“I think we're a little far upstate for Saito. Do you need me to walk you out, or anything?”

“I'll be fine. You go find some guy to dazzle with science, I'll see you all tomorrow.”

“Would that it were that easy.” Yusuf smiles ruefully and heads over to join Ariadne on the edge of the dance floor.

Outside the ballroom, Arthur pauses to collect himself before heading down to the lobby. He’s about four steps down the hallway when he bumps into Nash again.

Arthur tensed himself for confrontation. “Look, can we not-”

Nash grabs him by the shoulders and starts talking like they were already in the middle of a conversation.

“The thing is Arthur, it's not us, any of us. It's all you. You're searching so hard for perfection that you can't let anything actually happen by itself. That's why none of your relationships work out, and I'm worried about you. If you can't let yourself love people they'll never be able to love you back, and you'll just wind up in the same cycle again, letting people get away from you for no reason at all.”

Arthur's about to reply when Nash pulls his arms back and quickly leaves. He stands in the hallway for a second, confusion fighting with resentment, before re-starting towards the lobby and crashing into someone else.

“Third time's the charm?”

Eames.

Arthur stares at him blankly for a second. “I thought you'd gone.”

“No. Stephen's on the red-eye, but I had a few more people I wanted to talk to, so I just put him in a car. I'm heading out now though, if you wanted to share a taxi?”

Definitely not. Bad idea.

“Sure.”

They're both silent for the ride, each staring out opposite windows until they pull up outside Eames' hotel.

“Do you want to come in for a drink?”

Definitely not. _Bad idea._

“Are you sure that's wise?”

Eames gives him a heavy look. “I think we can manage to contain ourselves.

* * * * *

 

The next morning, Arthur silences his alarm at the first beep and reluctantly pulls himself out from under Eames' arm. He's getting dressed as quietly as he can and trying to find something to leave a note on when the bedclothes rustle.

“Thought you weren't a morning person?” Eames yawns.

“Depends on the morning. I've got to get back home early, there's some work to be done.”

There's quiet for a second as they look at each other, until a car blasts it's horn outside and breaks the silence.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

 

* * * * *

 

_July 9th_

 

Ariadne drops into Arthur's bed and shoves some toast at him.

“This is the first weekend in god knows how long that I haven't had a wedding or something wedding-related on. I'm sleeping in.”

“Lazy. I've got your mail too, but I don't think there's anything interesting.”

He throws the bills back at her, tosses some junkmail to the floor and looks at the one proper letter contemplatively for a second. It's addressed just to 'Arthur' – no last name – in handwriting he doesn't recognise. He pulls it open, reads it, and slumps back against his pillows.

“Something terrible?” Ariadne asks.

“You remember that guy, from the weddings?”

She pauses for second. “Your 'Man in Havana'?”

“Yes. Except he's technically someone else's Man in Havana.”

He hands over the wedding invitation and she scans it quickly. “Wow. This place is pretty fancy. It's one of the most expensive venues in...” She trails off.

“That's not helping, is it?”

“No.”

“So I suppose you don't want to see the list?”

Arthur groans and pulls himself out of bed. This is not going to be the relaxing Saturday he'd been hoping for.

 

* * * * *

 

They're registered at Barney's, which Arthur is going to blame Stephen for entirely, because Eames doesn't seem the type. He's wandering around, distracted by trying to figure out exactly how much he should be spending on this, when he manages to nearly walk into an empty display case.

“You should really look into getting some glasses, you know that?”

“Maybe.”

Eames smiles at him and Arthur takes a step back to take him in. It's a Saturday, so Arthur is wearing charcoal chinos and a button-down shirt, which is the closest he gets to slobbing out. Eames is wearing jeans so worn that parts of them look like the could fall apart at a moment's notice, and what appears to be that same puce polo shirt.

“So.” Eames coughs. “What brings you to Barney's?”

Arthur holds up the list and Eames blushes.

“You seriously don't have to. 90 percent of that stuff is Stephen's, anyway. If I had my way, it'd just be all of Le Cruset and an iPad.”

“Well, I was in the area...”

“Actually, are you free for like, an hour? There's something you might be able to help me with.”

Arthur checks his watch. He's meeting Saito later, but there's plenty of time before that.

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

He follows Eames to a waiting car, and then to a tailor.

“I can't go to my usual tailor – Saville Row is a little far away – and I've never bought a suit without him, ever, and you're usually so perfectly turned out...”

Arthur thinks of the perfectly-cut, slightly old-fashioned suits Eames normally wears. “You go to the same tailor as your father, don't you?”

“And my grandfather. Why?”

“No reason. Why can't you just get something similar to what you normally wear?”

Eames pulls a slight face. “Stephen wants a more 'contemporary' look. Whatever that means.”

Eames tries on suits for Arthur, trying to hit the right balance between his usual style and a more fitted cut to match the suit the tailor points out Stephen will be wearing.

On the eleventh try, Arthur has a pause for a second. The fit’s off in a couple of tiny, fixable ways, but aside from that, it's close to perfect.

“Um, yeah. I think this one. Just a second.”

He steps forward and places his hands ever so lightly – and _platonically_ – on Eames' hips, shifting the waistband slightly.

“You should wear these about half and inch higher then you normally do, and-” he undoes the bottom button of the waistcoat, “-you're not supposed to leave this done up. Ruins the line when you sit down.”

He takes a step back, eyes anywhere but Eames, and the tailor smiles approvingly at Arthur's adjustments before taking his chalk to Eames, marking out all the tiny places he needs to take things in to make it perfect.

After Eames is back in his own clothes, he smiles. “Well, that was relatively painless, thank you. Do you want to grab something to eat? Trying on clothes always leaves me starving.”

Arthur knows he has less then an hour before he has to meet Saito, but he says yes anyway.

They go to a tiny cafe that Arthur's never heard of, but that Eames promises is fantastic. It is.

“So, tell me about your friends.”

“My friends?”

“That gang you're always with at every wedding.”

“Oh, yeah. There's Ariadne, who I live with. She's a big younger then me, but she could probably tear me in half if she wanted to. Yusuf practically lives in a lab, so we have to drag him out to social functions so he manages to have human interaction sometimes. Saito was my Japanese tutor in college, and he hated me at first because he thought I was only taking it in some kind of creepy Anime obsession way, but he got over that.”

“You speak Japanese?”

“Not as well as I used to.”

There's a pause, and because Arthur is apparently a masochist today, he asks “So, are you excited about the wedding?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's weird though, y'know?”

“Not really.”

“Well, marriage was never really something that was on the cards, right?”

“Right.”

“And now here I am, getting married. Takes a little getting used to.”

“I see.”

Eames plays with his salad for a second. “It just takes a tiny bit of adjustment, you know. I mean, it's probably not more then any man goes through before he gets married. 'Am I giving up my freedom', 'I'm never going to have sex with anyone else, ever again.'”

“You don't think you'll be unfaithful?”

“Not once I'm married, no. It's only fair, and I mean, it's not like I haven't had my fair share up ‘til now.”

“Oh yeah? And what's a fair share nowadays? More then five? Ten?”

Eames raises an eyebrow. “Are you fishing for details?”

Arthur smiles. “I like details.”

“Well then, you asked for it.” He picks up his coffee and thinks for a second. “One. Memorable, though perhaps for the wrong reasons. She was very nice though, hardly her fault she didn't set my world alight. Two, three, four, five, still girls, still somewhat anticlimactic – though only in the metaphorical sense. Six, _finally_ , friend of my brothers', and, if you'll excuse the cliché, somewhat of a revelation. Seven to ten were older, stupid and reckless on my part, but your options are limited when you live in the country and you're horny as all hell.”

“Of course.”

“Then we hit university, lots of earnest boys confused by too much Greek – all with wives now, of course, interspersed with episodes of somewhat hedonistic abandon. I've lost count now, so lets say graduation rounds us up to twenty-five, okay?”

Arthur manages not to react.

“Most of these are not particularly interesting, though. Twenty-eight broke my heart. Thirty-one and thirty-two were brothers, though not at the same time. Thirty-six and thirty-seven were at the same time, not brothers though. Forty was... you know those people who you can't talk to for more then thirty seconds without wanting to punch, but you end up having to peel yourself off the floor after fucking them? Yeah. Forty-two broke my heart again. Forty-four was when I first got to America, far more muscles then I was used to, forty-five forgot my name before we were finished. Forty-seven was innovative, but boring as fuck in every other department. Forty-eight was...” he trails off for a second, smiling gently before pulling himself back. “And then forty-nine was Stephen.”

Arthur fiddles with his coffee cup. “So, um... I came after Stephen?”

“No. Forty-eight.”

There’s a pause, and Arthur’s trying to come up with a response when his eyes fall on his watch.

“Shit. I'm late.”

He jumps up from the table, throws down some money, and runs out the door. Eames finds him a minute later, trying to hail a cab.

“You'll never get one around here. I'll take you, I'm going that way anyway.”

There's a weird tension in the air for the car journey, Arthur tapping his fingers against the door as the traffic crawls past. He's out of the car before it even has a chance to fully stop, and Eames grabs his arm to steady him. It's a hot day out, so Saito, perfectly together, as always, is sitting at one of the sidewalk tables at the bar they're meeting at. Arthur rushes over, slightly out-of-breath.

Saito takes one look at him, and at Eames next to him, looking amused, and starts talking in Japanese.

“ _I trust whatever you have been doing is worth being late for.”_

_“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was torturing myself.”_

_“Is this the man Ariadne was referring to?”_

_“Yes._ ”

Eames looks between them, still amused.

“Sorry. Eames, this is Saito. Saito, this is Eames.”

Saito inclines his head graciously. “ _This is the man who is getting married soon?”_

_“Yes._ ”

Saito sighs, and looks at Eames for a moment.

“He... He doesn't like speaking English if he can help it. But he says congratulations on getting married.”

“Thanks. You should come. RSVP for all your friends, in fact, Stephen's family can be kind of... dry. I'll need all the entertaining guests I can manage.”

Arthur's just about managed to regain his breath, and is avoiding what he knows will be disapproving looks from Saito. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Well, it was nice to meet you. Hopefully see you soon.”

He squeezes Arthur's hand warmly before turning away and walking down the street. Arthur's about to drop into the seat across from Saito when he looks after Eames' retreating back.

“Sorry, sorry. I'll be back.”

He runs after Eames, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"So I'm sorry, and I think this probably makes me a horrible person, but I just felt like I needed to say this. And if you're happy, then you can just ignore me, but maybe you're not happy, because you did sleep with me after Jessa's wedding, though that might not mean anything, maybe you're just... But I'm getting away from myself. I don't normally do things like this, but you've probably guessed as much. I don't normally take chances, at all. But I just wanted to say, that if you're not happy right now, not happy getting married I mean, then you don't have to. I mean, I know you know you don't _have_ to, but in more concrete terms, if you didn't want to marry him, then maybe you'd want to go out with me? Because... Because I think I love you. And that's stupid, isn't it? Because I've only met you three times, and you can't be in love with someone after meeting them three times, even if love is real, which I'm not entirely convinced about. But if it is real, and it is possible to love someone after meeting them three times, then I think I do. And if it isn't, then, I probably will. _Shit_.

Arthur stopps talking suddenly and runs away, leaving Eames standing alone on the street.

_Eames & Stephen  
August 9th_.

The rain pounds into the top of the limo as they slowly drive through Connecticut.

“Remind me again why we're all here?” Yusuf asks.

“Because apparently Arthur has to go, or he'll look even more pathetic then usual.” Dom explains.

“That's why Arthur is here, why are _we_ here?”

“Because we are supporting Arthur so he doesn't do something ridiculous and even more pathetic.” Ariadne says. “And because every eligible homosexual on the Eastern seaboard will be there, and I figure I can take a shot at the Major Leagues.”

“Then why am I here?” Mal mutters, her face pressed into Dom's shoulder.

“Because you inexplicably love weddings, and said you'd be here.”

“I did not know I would feel like this when I said that. I have a headache. I have had headaches all this week and still you tease me.”

Dom runs his hand affectionately over her shoulder. “Well then you shouldn't have gone out with your friends from work every night this week.”

She looks up from his shoulder just to pout at him, before burying her face back in his jacket. Dom smiles at the rest of the limo's occupants.

“Mal is refusing to accept that now as she gets older, she's starting to join us and our weak American constitutions in the joys of hangovers.”

“And Dom will not give me any aspirins!”

“I will give you aspirin if you're not going to drink.”

She pouts again and poks him viciously in the side. “I hate you.”

“I know you do.”

His friends' gentle bickering manages to distract Arthur from their destination until they pull up outside the church. He takes a deep breath and allows Ariadne to link her arm with his before stepping inside.

The ceremony itself is something of a blur. Arthur sits on his hands the whole way through, steadfastly ignoring Mal and Ariadne's attempts to coax him into a smile. At the front of the church, Eames looks calm, his eyes barely flickering over the crowd. Stephen's looking at him with a quiet, pleased smile, and during the vows Arthur has to drop his eyes to the ground.

Afterwards, he moves down the receiving line with his best approximation of a smile. Eames looks... wrong somehow. He matches Stephen perfectly, and it's the same suit that Arthur liked so much in the tailor's, but here, in context, it lends Eames a disconnected air he can't quite put his finger on.

When he gets to the end of the line, and has to shake Eames' hand, he can't stop his palms from sweating slightly.

“You look great,” he offers. “Very... contemporary.”

Eames smiles back a different smile than everyone else on the line got, and thanks him quietly.

As soon as the line is out of sight, Arthur heads straight to the bar. No one could expect him to get through this without alcohol.

Mal obviously has the same idea, and she clinks her glass against his and drags him over to the corner where the rest of them seem to have set up shop.

“This is an intolerable situation,” she announces dramatically. “Lovely as these people seem to be, I cannot attend another wedding for people I do not care about. It falls on one of you to get married next, so I can enjoy myself properly.”

“Working on it.” Ariadne answers, surveying the rest of the guests.

“I'll leave it up to her then.” Yusuf says. “I don't think I'm quite ready for this level of social engagement.”

They dissipate into the crowd. Mal drags Dom out to dance, Yusuf and Saito head to the bar, Ariadne makes a move across the floor, and Arthur leaned against the wall.

Across the room, Arthur can see Eames and Stephen deep in laughing conversation with an older couple – presumably one of their parents. He stares into his glass and swirls the liquid around for a moment.

Nash slid up beside him and smiled. “You know, that's not going to make any more whiskey appear.”

Arthur turns to Nash, who looks perfectly turned out and relaxed.

“Sorry, but I'm really not feeling up for this right now. Can we put any fight off 'til another time?”

Nash's smile softens slightly. “Was I really that bad, last time?”

“Yes. Yes you were.”

“Then I'm the one who's sorry.” He reaches up to finger one of Arthur's lapels before smoothing it down. “You met me at a bad time. I'd just been dumped, things were going badly at work, but now...”

“You're doing better?”

He gestures at another man at the other side of the room. “I've got a new boyfriend, I've just been promoted, everything's going well. No fighting this time, I promise.”

“You seem like you've got everything sorted out. Maybe I should have stayed with you.”

Nash pulls a face. “God no. You were fine, but your friends... I don't think Saito would have accepted it.”

“Saito doesn't hate you.”

“Saito still pretends he doesn't speak English when I'm around.”

“Saito just likes speaking Japanese...”

Nash raises an eyebrow. “Look, give me a call when you're back in the city, alright? We can have lunch, see if we can't get you on your way to sorting yourself out.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Nash kisses him on the cheek before turning and weaving his way across the dance floor. Arthur watches him leave before his eyes are drawn back to Eames, still with Stephen, now swaying back and forth gently to the music.

Saito appears beside him and swaps his empty glass for a full one.

“ _Still torturing yourself, I see.”_

_“I don't think it's the kind of thing that stops suddenly. Particularly when you finally realise the person you want to marry has right at this moment just finished marrying someone else.”_

They step into an adjoining room, where Arthur collapses into a sofa and Saito manages to make even smoking out the window look impossibly stylish.

“ _I think I'm broken for anyone else after this. Maybe I should just be more like you from now on.”_

_“How do you mean?”_

_“You know. Casual relationships. Breaking up with guys before they become attached and being able to move on without feeling hopelessly stuck.”_

Saito fixes Arthur with a firm gaze.

“ _You think I do this because I choose to?”_

_“Don't you?”_

_“Arthur... When you are a man in my position, even the tiniest choices require maximum consideration. You think I would not like to meet someone, settle down? But every man I meet, how can I be sure he wants me, and not the money, the things that I can do for him? I would like to have a_ partner _, a family, some day. But I fear I must wait until I am not so big a catch before that happens.”_

_“Or until you meet an equally big fish.”_

_“Perhaps.”_

Through the door, there is the sound of a room being hushed for some purpose, and Saito dusts himself and pulls Arthur to his feet.

“ _Sometimes, the only way to get over something is to push yourself through to the other side.”_

Dom, Yusuf, and Ariadne are sprinkled throughout the crowd in the main room, but Mal is standing in the doorway and links her arm through his, offering him some of her wine. At the front of the room, Eames is speaking to the crowd, and it's all Arthur can do to keep himself in the room by fixing his eyes to his glass, the tables, his shoes, anything but Eames. He begins by quoting Baudelaire, in French. Mal is entranced.

“He is magnificent, no?”

“Yeah.”

Arthur doesn't mean to answer out loud, but she squeezes his fingers where they're linked with hers and smiles so sympathetically Arthur has to look away. The speech is perfect, warm and witty and romantic, and when Eames leans in to kiss Stephen before he relinquishes the floor, Arthur drains his glass.

Halfway through Stephen's speech, Mal pulls on his arm like she's trying to get him into the next room. He wants to stay though, wants to hear all of Stephen's speech, make sure he's good enough, adoring enough, for Eames, so he tries to shake her off before he realises that she isn't pulling on his arm, she's collapsed.

The second he sees her, body limp against his, time seems to slow to a crawl. Somehow, he and Saito carry her fully into the next room, and a doctor appears, and Yusuf and Ariadne, and the doctor checks her eyes and breathing and performs CPR, but suddenly he's sitting back, his eyes downcast, and time speeds up again.

Arthur looks up from her body, her hand still clutched in his, and realises who isn't there.

“Someone needs to go find Dom.”

 

_Mallorie Cobb  
August 12th_.

 

White lilies are traditional funeral flowers, but Mal's coffin is covered in pink ones, bright against the pale wood, because if she was never demure a day in her life she isn't going to start now.

The tiny church is crowded with people, some even standing at the back, but Arthur's eyes are fixed on the front row, where Dom sits nearly frozen next to Mal's father.

There's no mass, because most of Mal's friends weren't Catholic, and when Dom stands at the front of the church there's a long pause as he struggles to keep himself in check.

“I first met Mal when I sat next to her in freshman algebra, and she smiled at me for a few moments as I rambled on, completely distracted, before politely asking if I would move so her boyfriend could sit down. The second time was when she was gamely attempting to talk a bartender into serving her, her reasoning being that if she was French, and her government thought her perfectly capable of drinking responsibly, then there was no reason for the American government to think differently. Right then, I knew that I'd love her for as long as the world let me, maybe longer, though it may have taken her a little while longer to be convinced of the same. She was the kind of woman, the kind of friend, who loved so passionately and completely that almost everyone was caught in her spell at some point, and even if she was to fight with you, she'd always make sure you left knowing how much she loved you anyway.”

He pauses for a second, clenching his fingers against the lectern. “I've never been the best with words, generally finding some other way to get my points across. But Mal was the kind of person who appreciated the need to delegate those tasks you felt you could not complete yourself, so I hope she wouldn't mind that I'm going to have to supplement my words with someone else's.”

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,  
Enwrought with golden and silver light,  
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths  
Of night and light and the half-light,  
I would spread the cloths under your feet:  
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;  
I have spread my dreams under your feet;  
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

 

Outside, Dom climbs silently into the car with Mal's parents, and Arthur watches as Saito guides Ariadne into his own car, nodding at him over the door before they pull away from the church. He's got his hands shoved deep into his pockets and he's staring at the ground until a pair of feet appear in front of him, and he looks up.

Eames.

“Thank you for coming. I know you must have had other things planned.”

“There's no such thing as a plan that can't be worked around.”

There's silence for a moment.

“About what you said...”

“I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have said anything.”

“No, no... I liked it. That you said it.”

There's silence again as Eames takes his hand, squeezing it gently before kissing his cheek and turning to leave.

When Arthur's almost alone again, it starts to rain. That annoying Summer rain that soaks you through because it's still too warm to wear a coat, and Arthur doesn't know what to do when Yusuf appears, holding an umbrella. They walk slowly away from the church.

“I have no idea how Dom's even upright right now, or Mal's parents. I hope I never have to bury a child. Or a husband even,” Yusuf says.

“Still planning on getting married?” Arthur asks.

“Yeah, of course. Aren't you?”

“Why? If I can't love someone like Dom loved Mal – can't _be_ loved like Dom loved Mal, what's the point? Maybe we're not meant to get married.”

“It took Dom three months to convince Mal to go out with him. Longer before she'd even listen when he told her he loved her.”

“That's my problem then, I give up to fast?”

“You don't give up, you run away. It's like... It's like you've got such a specific idea in your head of how a relationship needs to go, that as soon as they deviate from the plan – and they will, because that's what people do – you cut them loose. You're looking so hard for complete perfection that you miss very-nearly perfect, because you only find perfection in maths, and even then only sometimes.”

Yusuf looks out over the river. “Me, I'm not looking for perfection, perfection's boring. I want someone who won't mind that I work ridiculous hours and sometimes come home smelling of sulphur or ascorbic acid. Who likes staying up all night talking about books or music, even if we have completely different taste. Who's not perfect, but isn't looking for me to be either. That's why I'm sure I'll find them, one day. Even if it takes a while.”

Arthur looks over the river, staring at the Manhattan skyline. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe.”

 

_Arthur & –  
April 6h_.

 

Ariadne hauls Arthur out of bed at eight am, and shoves him in the shower before disappearing back into her own room. The second he's out of the bathroom Yusuf grabs him and guides him to the kitchen, putting breakfast in front of him and leaving only after firmly informing him not to fall asleep on the table.

Dom shows up ten minutes later, already perfectly dressed and clutching a huge box of assorted flowers.

“You don't look nervous _at all_ ,” he says.

“I may or may not have been up ‘til three am over-thinking things.”

“Just a normal day then.”

Arthur looks at Cobb carefully. “Thank you, for this. I know it can't be easy, what with...”

Cobb smiles back gently. “Arthur, it's fine. She'd kill me if she thought I was in any way distracting you from today. Besides-” he pulls his jacket open to reveal a small flask in his inside pocket “-she's here in spirit.”

Arthur grins. “Marriage _should_ only be attempted by those whose resolves have been tempered by good cognac.”

But Dom closes his jacket when Arthur reaches for the flask. “You can temper your resolve all you want at the church. Now, you need to get dressed.”

Thanks to judicial planning, they arrive at the church early, and Arthur is about to go crazy waiting when Dom drags them all to a secluded spot and finally opens his flask.

Saito raises his tiny paper cup. “I would like to propose a toast. For Arthur, who has finally learned enough about grown-up love to attempt it for himself. The gentleman in question... well, we shall say no more, but as long as he makes Arthur happy, that is all we can ask for. To Arthur and Nash.”

“Arthur and Nash.”

Everyone taps their cups together, and Arthur is enveloped by many sets of arms.

Ariadne and Yusuf disappear to tend to their plus-ones, leaving Saito and Dom to show guests to their seats and Arthur to hide behind a large flower arrangement and silently marvel at how easily Saito manages to pacify even the most irritating of guests. One man enters, barking into his blackberry and completely ignoring any attempts to quiet him.

“All phones must be turned off,” Saito says.

“I know that. I'll turn it off for the ceremony, but I'm about to join a conference with-” he switches suddenly to perfect, if accented, Japanese and starts talking into his phone again.

Saito stares him down calmly. “I'm sure your people can manage without you for an hour.”

“I had to learn Japanese because I couldn't find a translator willing to yell at people with the right level of nuance, and you expect me to leave this up to _my people_?”

“That is exactly what I expect, Mr...”

“Fischer.”

“Mr. Fischer.”

Mr. Fischer looks at his phone for a second, then back at Saito, before barking some instructions into it and hanging up.

“No more then an hour?”

“No more.”

Arthur turns to leave the church for some air, dodging around several guests only to crash into one just at the door.

Eames looks... different. He's back in one of his own suits, but he's lost weight and it's sitting on him awkwardly.

He still smiles the same smile at Arthur. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You look good. But then, I can't remember a time when you've looked anything less, so...”

There's a pause for a moent while they look at each other, before Arthur is forced to talk.

“How's Stephen?”

“He's fine, as far as I know.”

“As far as you know?”

“Yes. He and I... we discovered some irreconcilable differences.”

“You left him?”

“I suspect he'd make a claim it was more mutual then that, but effectively, yes. Absolute last time I marry a man who thinks a striped tie is a daring statement.”

Arthur has to catch himself before he continues. “How long?”

“A while. Christmas shot right to the top of the 'worst ever' ranking, but it's all done for now.”

“You... you should have called.”

“I was going to, really. But I was kind of a mess for a while, and then it had been so long, and I got the invite, and...”

Arthur smiles grimly. “Our timing has always been bad.”

“Disastrous, even.”

“It's good to see you though. I'm... I'm glad you're here.”

Eames looks around the church for a second, then back to Arthur. “Well, I'd better sit down before it all kicks off. I'll see you after, okay?”

He squeezes Arthur's arm just this side of too tight and walks off to take his seat.

Arthur nearly knocks Dom over running to the rectory. It only takes a couple of seconds before he follows him.

“Marriage is a good thing, right? We've all settled on that?”

“Yes.” Dom agrees. “It's good, if you love the person.”

“I was afraid that was it.”

Arthur presses his face into the cold stone wall. “This is not the moment to be having thoughts, is it?”

“Depends on the kind of thoughts, but going by your face, I'd say no. This is probably about three levels past the moment to be having thoughts.”

Saito slips into the room behind Dom and raises an eyebrow. Arthur has never been so glad that Dom studied French.

“ _Eames left his husband.”_

_“Arthur, you're getting married.”_

_“I know that.”_

Dom looks between them, trying to grab the gist of the conversation, before throwing up his hands hand leaning against the wall.

“ _What am I supposed to do?”_

_“You can marry Nash, or you can walk out there and cancel everything.”_

_“Neither of those sound like tempting offers._ ”

There's a knock on the door and Dom and Saito both turn to look at Arthur.

“Well?”

It takes Arthur a second to respond, but he pulls himself to his feet and smoothes down his suit.

“Okay. Lets do this.”

He takes his seat in the front pew and looks straight ahead, afraid of what might happen if he looks over at Nash on the other side, or worse, into the congregation. But there's only a few seconds to burn before the music starts and everyone stands, and Arthur and Nash meet in front of the priest.

Arthur's mind is completely blank, not taking anything in at all until the silent moment after 'speak now, or forever hold your peace' is broken by a loud and insistent cough.

The cough is ignored, until the priest opens his mouth to continue, and whoever it is coughs again, even louder. Nash turns slightly to look into the congregation, searching out whoever it is, and when he can't see anyone, Arthur looks for himself and sees Saito, one eyebrow raised, making a gesture that Arthur hasn't seen in years, since they played baseball in college, but still recognises.

A gesture that means 'hold back until you're absolutely certain.'

“What's going on?” Nash asks.

“I... I'm sorry, but I have to go.”

Arthur tries to take a step away, but Nash grabs his wrist and his grip he's stronger then he looks, so Arthur's stuck.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I can't do this. I can't marry you, okay? I'm sorry, but-”

Nash punches him square in the face.

He deserves it.

 

*****

 

Everyone's crowded into his kitchen.

“Well,” Ariadne offers, “It could be worse.”

“Yeah.” Yusuf agrees. “I mean, you could have married him, and then decided you didn't want to.”

“I can't believe you actually left him at the altar though.” Ariadne continues. “That's... harsh.”

“Thank you for that contribution, Ari. Because I'm not hating myself enough already.”

“Enough.” Saito announces from his seat near the window. “There is little here to be worried about. Yes, it was not the most desirable outcome for all involved, but it was also not the least desirable. Nash will meet someone new and regale them with tales of being abandoned so cruelly, and Arthur...”

“Arthur has already met someone, it seems.” Dom points out.

“That does appear to be the case.” Saito agrees.

Everyone turns to look at Arthur for his contribution, but the doorbell rings, saving him momentarily.

“It's probably Nash.” Ariadne points out. “Or one of his giant relatives.”

“Do you want me to...” Dom offers, but Arthur waves him off.

“No, no. I think this is all on me.”

Except standing on the doorstep, in the rain, is Eames.

“Jesus, come inside, you're soaked.”

“No, I'm fine, really. Reminds me of home.”

Eames won't come any closer, so Arthur steps out the door

“I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were alright.” Eames cuts himself off. “I shouldn't have come to the church today, it was a bad... I'm just going to go, okay? Yeah.”

He takes off down the steps and Arthur has to run to catch him.

“No, believe me, I'm the asshole in this situation. Besides, it was a good thing. Marrying Nash... marrying Nash would have been the worst mistake I'd ever make. Because for everything I've ever said about not really believing in love, I realised that I did. Only I wasn't in love with him, like I was supposed to be. I was in love with you. I _am_ in love with you.”

A wide smile breaks out across Eames' face and Arthur grabs his hand, pulling him up the steps and not quite managing to get him out of the rain .

“And if there's one thing I've learned for sure, it's that marriage is probably something I should best avoid. But maybe, once we've seen each other more then five times over a whole year, and have reached a place where saying 'I love you' is more appropriate, then maybe you might think about not marrying me?”

Eames smiles even wider and reaches up to cup Arthur's face with his hands.

“I'll give it serious consideration.”

He kisses him. And even though it's raining so hard Arthur can't even taste him, and they've had - will have - other, better, more passionate kisses before, this kiss, this ordinary, wet kiss is the one Arthur will remember as their best.


End file.
